


honey, you don't have to go nowhere

by likebrightness



Category: Rookie Blue
Genre: F/F, Post-Episode: s05e03, feelings fic, post-ep, season five
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-04
Updated: 2014-06-04
Packaged: 2018-02-03 10:31:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1741493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likebrightness/pseuds/likebrightness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Gail drinks, and makes sad enough faces at Nick’s losing that no one gets mad at her, and she does not talk about Holly. (She’d like to say she doesn’t think about her, but she’s trying not to lie to herself so much anymore.) </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	honey, you don't have to go nowhere

**Author's Note:**

> ~~  
>  No, I will never call it Fite Nite.   
>  ~~

-

It’s easy to get drunk at Fight Night. Stupid, maybe, but easy. 

Traci’s there, and they’re friends now. Six months without Nick and Andy, plus a brother who won’t shut up about her, and they’re friends. Close enough that Traci knows Gail needs more than one beer and Gail does not need to talk about Holly. 

And Nick is there, getting his ass kicked, which Gail both is and is not happy about. She’s over _him_ ; she’s just maybe not over his little crush on Andy. She may have been the one to actually ruin everything there, but he was the catalyst. (Holly was telling her the scientific meaning of catalyst the other day, how they aren’t actually used up in the reaction itself but might be by secondary processes or something. Gail hasn’t taken chemistry since high school, didn’t like it then, but she was _enthralled_. Anyway, that seems like a good word for Nick—he sped up the break up, and maybe it didn’t consume him or anything, but maybe this is, this secondary process of him being stupid enough to think Andy hasn’t been Sam’s since the moment they laid eyes on each other, this secondary process of him getting punched in the face over and over again by some rookie from another division.) 

Gail drinks, and makes sad enough faces at Nick’s losing that no one gets mad at her, and she does not talk about Holly. (She’d like to say she doesn’t think about her, but she’s trying not to lie to herself so much anymore.) 

“How’d meeting the friends go?” Dov asks her while some dweeby looking guy from the 12th is pummeling somebody twice his size. 

“Yeah great, awesome, thanks for asking,” she says. (Lying to other people is a thing she cares less about stopping.) “Definitely great.”

She goes to get another drink. 

The woman from the 27th catches her before she makes it to the bar. Luck, Gail thinks her name is, has a beer in each hand. She offers Gail one. 

“To pay you back for the one you got me!” Her cheeks are flushed.

“The drinks are free,” Gail says, doesn’t mention anything about backwash. 

Luck flushes further and breaks eye contact, smiles a little. “You want the beer or not?” 

Gail wants the beer. And she doesn’t mind the thought of some other girl blushing around her. (Holly never blushes around her, never gets embarrassed or flustered or anything. She’s cool as a cucumber. Maybe it’s easier for her, since she’s just _having fun_.) 

-

Shannon Luck, it turns out is her name, and Holly shows up not ten minutes into Gail’s conversation with her. (And Luck’s pretty, she’s got a good smile, but she’s not Holly pretty. And she’s nowhere close to Holly interesting.) Holly looks concerned, and then mad, which Gail likes, except it seems more weary than jealous. Gail thinks about putting her hand on Shannon’s arm. 

Holly apologizes to Luck for interrupting, excellent bedside manner even if she works in a morgue, before turning to Gail. (And she’s weary, definitely weary.) “Can we talk?” 

Gail walks away. 

Holly probably apologizes to Luck again, probably perfect and polite and smart while Gail is just a bitch of a beat cop. Gail is 100% done with this night. 

She’s almost out the door when Holly catches up with her. 

“Gail.” 

She ignores her. 

“Gail, come on. Can I drive you home?” 

They’re on the sidewalk now, and Gail is not going to look at her. She walks to the edge of the street instead, acts like she’s looking for a taxi, though there’s no traffic at all. “I’m just gonna catch a cab.”

“You hate cabs.”

And Gail is not going to cry, not going to be a weepy drunk (though there’s a chance she maybe was already, in front of Holly and everything, and that Holly was perfect about the whole thing, and that just makes her want to cry more). She’s not going to cry but Holly doesn’t even _know_ why she hates cabs. 

“I’m working to overcome my hatred.” (She’s working to overcome her _fear_ , is what she’s doing, has been trying to take longer and longer rides. It was months before she got back into one at all; Traci held her hand the entire time. She still doesn’t like to take them by herself.) 

“Could you work to overcome your hatred of me for a second so we can talk?” Holly asks, and that gets Gail to look at her. 

That gets Gail to look at her because the last thing she does is _hate_ Holly. 

She immediately wants to punch whoever put that look on Holly’s face, that weary, _sad_ look, and then she remembers that _she_ put it there, and she thinks maybe Botched Boob Job was right about her. 

“Lisa’s an idiot,” is what Holly says, though. And then she’s off, because the thing about Holly is that she’ll talk and talk and talk until Gail can’t take it anymore (but in a good way, the kind where she has to _kiss_ her to get her to stop talking, and Gail should have taken that into account before she let her get a word in). “Lisa’s an idiot and she thinks she knows what’s best for me but she has never known or taken into account what I actually want. She wanted me to go into surgery, plastics or ortho or something, never mind the fact that I don’t like surgery. I didn’t want to do surgery. And I love her, she _is_ like my family, but that means more than just we’re close. That means she’s like your mom, like how your mom wants you to be a white shirt and marry another white shirt, a handsome one from another division. That’s what Lisa is for me, but instead of a white shirt, she wants me to be a surgeon and marry some surgeon in a different specialty and take over the field or something.” 

It’s weird that Holly even knows that about her mom, weird that Gail told her. But they talk, it’s what they do, they tell each other things. Gail avoids talking about her family whenever possible and here’s Holly, who knows, who understands her mother’s stupid ridiculous expectations. 

“I don’t want to be a surgeon, and I don’t want to be _with_ a surgeon,” Holly says. “I’m doing what I want to do and I’m with who I want to be with and I’m not going to apologize for saying I’m having fun because I am. I have _fun_ with you, and that’s not something I need to say sorry for. And you don’t get to _break up_ with me just because you—” 

Gail kisses her then, to shut her up. 

It works well enough.

They kiss until someone who has just come out of Fight Night wolf whistles at them. The only reason Gail pulls away is to flip the guy off. Then she gets her mouth back on Holly’s, tries to get words out in between kisses. 

“I didn’t—I wasn’t—” she pushes her forehead against Holly’s, keeps their lips from touching. “I’m not breaking up with you.”

It’s possible she didn’t know that’s what it would have been, if things had ended. She wasn’t completely sure Holly thought they had enough for it to be considered a break up. Gail’s heart feels really light knowing otherwise.

Holly smiles. Gail can’t quite see it, their faces are too close, but she doesn’t move away. 

“Can I take you home with me?” 

Gail thinks about Dov, asking if she was serious about Holly, thinks about Oliver calling her “your girl,” thinks about _home_. She kisses Holly one more time, and lets her lead the way to the car.

-

On the way to Holly’s apartment, Gail realizes she must still be a little drunk. Because she could stop herself from staring at Holly if she were sober. Instead, she just looks, and looks, and is pretty sure her eyes have stars in them. 

“You’re very good at fixing things,” she says eventually.

Holly gives her a look. “That’s true. I can fix a leaky faucet with the best of them.” 

Gail rolls her eyes. Holly puts a hand on her arm. She’s still giving her that weird, concerned look, eyes bouncing between the road and Gail’s face. 

“Honey,” she says (and Gail is kind of disgusted by how much she likes the endearment), “I’m not fixing _you_. That’s not what I’m doing here. I’m _supporting_ you, but you don’t need fixing.” 

She _does_ , though, she’s pretty sure. Holly doesn’t even know all the ways she needs fixing, doesn’t know about Jerry and doing yoga in a hospital room. Gail had a panic attack, the night they were waiting to hear about Sam and Chloe, couldn’t breathe from being in that place, her world collapsing in all of the sudden, and she let Holly think she was just worried about her friends. 

She hates taxis and she hates that hospital and she hates relationships, all of them, because they just end up fucking her over in the end, and when she’s with Holly, she doesn’t think about any of that. Holly makes her _better_ in a way she doesn’t know how to make herself. 

“I’m sorry I let that other girl buy me a drink,” is what she says.

Holly laughs and lets Gail off the hook. “Drinks are free at Fight Night, aren’t they?” 

“Holly! It’s the principle of the thing!” 

She tries to be offended, but Holly’s still laughing, and Gail doesn’t manage it. (It’s just—Holly’s glancing at her out of the corner of her eye, this big grin on her face, like maybe she needs to smile at Gail more than she needs to watch the road, and it makes Gail feel like something’s been knocked loose in her chest.)

-

In her driveway, before Gail can get out of the car, Holly catches her hand, laces their fingers together. She’s still smiling, but it’s softer now.

“You’re great,” she says. “And sometimes you might need a little help seeing that, but don’t ever think you’re anything but amazing.”

(There’s definitely something in Gail’s chest, a balloon or something, maybe it’s her heart, feels like it’s skydiving behind her ribcage.) 

Holly’s smile slides from gentle to something more like a smirk. Gail’s pretty sure it means she doesn’t have to talk about her feelings anymore, thank god.

“You wanna make some popcorn and tell me about how hard it was to look sad when your ex got his ass kicked?” 

Gail really, really does.

-


End file.
